Extraordinary
by Arinlianette
Summary: People ridiculed her. They looked at her and saw a weak human being that needed to be put out of its misery. But she new better. She was just an ordinary person with an extraordinary ability...She was an Alpha. Starts during "Never Let Me Go." Female OC
1. Chapter 1

**Story Title: Extraordinary**

**Category: Alphas**

**Rating: T (for slight language and light mature themes, to be safe)**

**Character(s): Gary Bell**

**Theme: Friendship/Sci-Fi**

**Summary: People ridiculed her. They looked at her and saw a weak human being that needed to be put out of its misery. But she new better. She was just an ordinary person with an extraordinary ability...She was an Alpha. Starts during "Never Let Me Go." Female OC**

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

Violet blots colored the hallways of Fenton High School. A porcelain face tilted slightly in concentration, ignoring the vass number of students walked right across its line of vision. In order for her to see the particles vibrating, she had to multiply her perception, but then, people would be moving in slow motion when she needed them to quickly be out of the way. It was disorienting.

A group of voices appeared in the background and quickly flooded her ears. Various students moved up and down the hallway as a large boy ran after a much smaller one. The former tripped on a someone's shoe lace and came crashing onto the blue- and white-tiled floor, just a few feet from her position on the bench against the wall. Once he recovered, he tried to scramble his way back up to his feet, or at least further away from his assailant, but the jock kicked him in the back of his knee mid-rise and sent the boy back down to the floor long enough for him to reach down and grab him by the torso.

Slamming him into the royal blue metal locker, the athlete grunted before yelling, "Where the hell is my stuff?"

The blots were gone. The girl sighed.

Anyone who wasn't a teacher knew that Darrell Montgomery had to be talking about homework since the boys weren't friends, and the smaller one, Tommy, detested anything that had to do with drugs.

Trembling, Tommy's clammy hand dipped into his pants pocket to retrieve his cell phone. "I-I left it a-at home, so maybe I could c-call my mom and—"

A large hand wrapped around his neck threatened to cut off air. Darrell's voice dropped several octaves as he tempted to control his voice as to not attract any authority's attention.

"I don't care about that assignment so much. I have an alternate source. But what I _do _care about is the fact that you just broke the contract, spent my money, and had to cry to Mommy to try and not get in trouble!" He teased the boy to no end as the student population either laughed, pointed or whispered amongst themselves as people brought out their Androids, filming the aggressive encounter.

"W-what do you want?"

"I want my money and pay back!"

Tommy Wilkons started crying.

"But I don't have it—"

Darrell's eyes flashed in anger but also held arrogance.

The girl's cerulean eyes moved to the locker to the direct left of Darrell and she shifted her glasses closer up her nose in order to see everything more clearly. She drowned the boy out with static for a moment as he ranted on in order to see what she was looking for. She pushed her perception to move quite faster, and once she saw it—the purple objects vibrating—she went to work.

To an outsider, it would seem as though the girl was suffering from retardation, but that was _far_ from the case. The fingers resting in her lap tightened around the fabric of her blue dress in engrossement and she could feel the nuclei of her nerves getting to work and increasing production. Now the nerves in her spine were sending shockwaves of energy to her brain and vise-versa. Synaptic terminals released even more neural transmitters than usual and her CNS was at ten times best. When concentrated enough, she stared at the electrons in the intended locker and inhaled. She felt her brain waves leaving her mind in the form of something more as she willed them to the right location. She could faintly see Darrell pull his hand back as the locker began to silently shake.

"...spend my money, I spent your face!"

Her eyes dilated and the locker door swung open with increased force. Darrell's face turned about thirty degrees to his left and a collision of cartilage and metal could be heard. After a thump, the students' voices became louder and were clearly mystified. Tommy cautiously opened his eyes only to find that his enemy had fallen to the floor with a horrifyingly bloody nose. Darrell wheezed on the floor in equal shock and pain.

She could hear the faint clicking of heels.

"What is going on here?"

That was her cue to leave. It wasn't that hard since she wasn't the only student running to get to class, or the bathroom, or _anywhere_ that wasn't _there_. She clutched her large tote bag and convinced herself to not run like the others. Quickly smoothing out her dress, she stood and gracefully made her way to the bathroom in her dark, conventional heels.

Upon entering, she found a few girls glaming themselves up on the far side of the sink and inwardly shuttered. Girls like that always seemed to tease her, especially when she was in high school. It was a high school full of taller people and larger egos. She was usually a pretty upbeat person, but she was just _awkward. _ And most of the world could always see that.

One of the girls took a glance at the stranger and whispered something to her friend. Blue eyes kept to themselves as the girls examined her profile. Looking into the mirror, she could tell that her hair had frizzed just a bit from the use of her ability. She pulled out some oil sheen and sprayed into the cup of her hand after pouring a bit of water in it before rubbing her hands together. She pulled the water-oil through her hair in attempt to make it lay a bit more. Her fingers ran through her roots and she massaged her scalp, making the brain activity slow back down to normal and it soothed her. Sighing, she took out a brush and looked at her hair. She had no idea what to do with it. But she wasn't a student. She was a visitor. A visitor who had to fix her hair if she wanted to figure what was going on in Fenton, Pennsylvania. No one would answer questions if she didn't look somewhat presentable.

After deciding to just brush it out and let the ends naturally curl slightly, she straightened her large, black glasses and left the bathroom to look for the office. When she got there, she smoothed out her dress, pressed a reassuring hand to her name tag and tentatively walked through the doors of the office. A woman glanced at her from the desk before returning to work.

Gulping then lip biting, before actually speaking.

"Um, hi. I'm here for a story?" Her voice was lax and she pushed herself to try and fix it. A reporter wasn't afraid to ask people questions. She didn't want her cover blown.

The woman glanced up. "Name?"

She internally cringed but let her smile cover up for it. "Margaret Stone?"

Typing. "Oh, yes. Miss Stone. The assistant principal is ready for you."

The woman pointed through the door and _Margaret_ smiled. "Thank-you."

This was easier then she thought and unbelievable. She had convinced the lady at the front desk that she was a student from some college (that she made up conveniently on the spot _with_ valid qualifications) looking to right a story for a paper, stalked the halls and saved a fellow nerd from getting his faced arranged, get an appointment with the assistant principal to ask about a murder, _not _sports, and even walked into the _building_ with a fake name, nonetheless.

The only thing stopping Daphne Lambert now was her stupid, socially-awkward personality.

_Here goes nothing..._

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><p><strong>My first Alpha fanfiction. I noticed that there were next to no Alpha stories so I couldn't resist! And PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review and tell me what you think about the OC's Alpha ability. I researched neurology and stuff and kept changing the power until I could come up with something "logical" since the Alpha ability are supposed to be able to be scientifically proven. Next chapter up in about a week :)<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**So sorry for the lack of update. Anyway, here's chapter 2!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Dr. Rosin, Rachel, nor Officer Marty.**

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

The door clicked open.

"…Mr. Cozar?" The lanky man stood from his post.

"Ah. Miss Stone, I presume?" Mark Cozar reached out a hand and proceeded to shake the distraught girl's trembling hand.

She swallowed the invisible lump that arose in her throat and lamely nodded.

"Please, take a seat," he motioned to the blue chair facing forward before sitting down himself. Daphne went to reach inside her bag to retrieve her "interview notebook". She knew never took notes over anything, but it would look odd if she was to demonstrate her exceptional memory for a college paper. "Now what college assignment was this for again? I'm very interested."

Daphne paused, unsure of how to answer. Would she stick to her previous answer (which he would not recognize and look up later), or perhaps tell him where she actually received her schooling and hope he didn't look her name up? No, neither of those were very good solutions. Why couldn't she remember her cover information that she had spent a half an hour making up when she really needed it?

In the end, she decided to tell him that she was writing a journalism paper on the killings because she needed a topic and she was in town. But this was never heard because someone conveniently came knocking on the door.

"Mr. Cozar, another student has been admitted to the clinic."

"Jan—"

"It's Patricia Thompson...She's showing the symptoms..."

Symptoms? This sparked Daphne's attention.

Cozar sighed and rubbed the skin between his eyes. "Well, get her to the hospital with as little public audience as possible..." Jan nodded and shut the door back. "I'm sorry—"

"Patricia Thompson?" she interrupted, almost excited.

"Er, she's in the lead for this year's valedictorian..."

Daphne had to keep reminded herself that normal people don't have eidetic memories. She looked down at her paper's general direction and scribbled a few lines of jibberish to keep up her character.

Cozar saw this and leaned forward on his desk.

"I'm sorry, but what exactly are you here for? Why are you writing that down?"

Gulp. "I'm a journalism student looking for something to write about as a final. I was told to look up murders and write about them. Of course, it won't be published, this is just something for my teacher to look at to determine if I've mastered all of the required writing techniques..."

He contemplated this for a moment before shifting in his seat.

"You've got ten minutes."

Daphne almost beamed, but distracted herself from the feeling by awkwardly crossing her legs and pushing up her drifting glasses. She fumbled with her pen before starting.

"Just to, um, clarify, how many victims are there?"

"From the school? Two."

Daphne swallowed and chewed the inside of her cheek. "From the school? There's..._others_ outside of the school?"

Cozar put on an objective face. "Three, to be exact—" Daphne was about to respond but Cozar anticipated this. "—that is not information that is mine to disclose..."

Daphne bit her lip and scribbled a bit more. Cozar tried to peak over the top of her notebook but he noticed her eyes glance at him suspiciously and settled back into his seat.

"Has it ever occurred to you that this epidemic may be serious—"

"Now, I assure you, Miss Stone. Whatever the problem is, we are doing our best to figure it out in order to—"

"But these people need attention..."

"I am aware of that, mind you, I am a principal of a high school. My duties rise higher and higher with each passing day without these murders scaring my students."

"Uh, I understand that, but people have a right to be afraid, to feel vulnerable. From what I've heard around town, there could be a sickness or poison of some-sort playing into all of this. So, of course fear is running through your school. We're battling an invisible enemy..."

Cozar began to stand from his seat but paused.

_Knock, knock._

"Sir, the police department's here to take your statements..."

"Of course, Patricia. If you would excuse me, Miss Stone," he began to usher her out, still in a shaken fury, "there is business I must attend to...Patricia, be sure to show our guest out..."

Cozar straightened his tie and went back into his office in an unexpected rage that shook Daphne's bones. She nodded to the woman at the desk—without looking at her—and exited the office. Cozar's odd change in behavior was unsettling to Daphne, and she was confused. All she was doing was clarifying the problem at hand and he looked just about ready to slap her!

She walked through the silent hallway and was pleased to find it bare of any lurking students. Once making it to the front entrance, she could spot the patiently awaiting red 2009 Ford Focus on the curb and quickly made her way to the passenger door, avoiding eye contact with the police officer that passed her.

Rachel and Dr. Rosin walk in on the high school's football coach yelling at a police officer.

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><p>"Look, three people are dead. We need answers. How is my team supposed to focus when all they can think about is who's gonna drop next?"<p>

"You've gotta calm down, I've told you everything I know."

"You haven't told me a damn thing. Look, I swear Marty, if you're holding out on me—"

The policeman glared. "Do not threaten me."

The coach scoffed before angrily pacing out the door. Rachel readjusts her purse and looks at Dr. Rosin.

"That was a lot of testosterone...," she mumbles.

Rosin walks up to desk. While shaking his hand, he introduces himself.

"Sheriff Handel. Hi, I'm Dr. Lee Rosin, um..."

Rachel intervenes with a smile. "Rachel Perzad."

The man of law enforcement replies, "Marty. Um, sorry about that, uh. Coach Silinski gets a little passionate about his football team."

"Passionate?" This was Rachel.

"I heard they were sending more people, so...uh, exactly who are you folks?"

Dr. Rosin holds up DCIS badge, upside down, and Marty attempts to read it. Rosin quickly realizes his mistake and fixes it. "Oh, sorry."

"DCIS, come on back..." Mary waves them behind the counter. "So, how'd this end up in defense apartment? We looking at terrorism?"

"No, I wouldn't jump to any conclusions just yet."

"Sheriff, I'm sorry," the synesthete questioned curiously. "Were there any links between the victims?"

"Ned Burton died first. He was David Burton's dad. Oh, David is a local football star. Ned was a realtor. Watts was our bank manager, uh James Howard, the guidance counselour for Fenton High...These bodies looked half melted inside, but there was no infection, nothing on tox screens...Tell me what I'm missing. I mean, four deaths in four weeks is way out of my league."

"Did you say _four_ deaths? We were only informed about three..."

"Yeah, the fourth was unrelated. Just a freak accident."

Just a freak accident? This was interesting to Rosin. "Well, what kind of freak accident?"

"Car crash. Chris Eckart slammed into a telephone pole on his way home from school. It was a horrible tragedy..."

"Autopsy?"

"In a small town like this, when a kid hits a telephone pole, it's probably drugs or alcohol."

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><p><strong>There you have it! The next chapter should have some OC-DCIS interaction. Review, please!<strong>

**Also, for any questions, message me :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Yay! I updated TWICE in one week! This is a new feeling...**

**Anyway, here's the next chapter. Hope you like it :D**

**DISCLAIMER: I only own Daphne and Parker.**

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><p>Chapter 3<p>

"So, they called DCIS in? Maybe this _is_ an alpha. I mean they—Daphne, are you listening to me?"

The redhead was looking across the street at the diner. She studied the laughing faces as they interacted. They wore DCIS badges and were goofing off. She turned back to the driver, her older brother, and pushed her glasses back into place.

"No, Parker, I wasn't listening."

She went back to staring at the front diner window.

"_Oh, okay_...hey, are you hungry?"

"Not really."

"But I'm starving."

"Then go get something. You know, hunger is the number one health risk in the world, above AIDS, malaria and tuberculosis—"

"Daphne.,I'm going in now. Sheesh. Stay in here."

The strawberry-blond exited the car, locked the doors, and walked across the street to grab something to eat. Daphne never let her eyes leave the building, watching as Parker accidentally bumped into a weird-looking twenty-year old and apologized. Parker paused while looking at the boy before walking back up to the counter to order his meal. Daphne pulled out her cell phone and began typing a text to her friend, James.

** To Jamie**: Hey, I'm working on that sick-person's case in Pennsylvania. It seems it _might_ be someone like us who's causing the deaths. But the information is too inconsistent and no one's talking. I don't know if I'll be able to save this one... :(

Twenty seconds later, her phone beeped.

**To Daphne: **What did u expect? U don't work for the govt nor r u a journalist. You're just a weird kid who wants to help alphas esc judicial persecution. Of course no one is talking...

This made the girl think.

**To Jamie:** But I HAVE to help them. They already have the DCIS out here and I'm AWFUL at sneaking around. This is a spy's job, not a genius's.

Jamie didn't reply back and Daphne put her phone away. She looked back at the diner and froze.

All of the DCIS agents were looking at her.

The boy from earlier was pointing at her through the glass and the large, black man moved his hand away while saying something. She quickly glanced around for a sign of Parker, and found that he was no where in sight. She sighed at seeing the thirty-year-old something man crossing the street to her. Unbuckling her seat belt, she closed the passenger door and faced the man.

"Saw you looking at my group and I earlier..."

"Oh, I wasn't looking at you," she tried to smile, "I was looking at my brother, whom was grabbing something to eat before we go."

"Where _is _your brother?"

"Right there," she nodded across the street.

Sure enough, he was walking from around a corner inside the establishment. The man signaled to his co-workers and the black man stood next to her brother and whispered something in his ear. Parker tensed as the man ushered him to their table. Whatever was said had to have been threatening for him to sit at a stranger's table like that. They were all looking at Daphne now.

"Dear, Lord," she muttered under her breath, watching her brother.

"Who are you?" the man demanded, roughly.

"Margaret Stone." The man paused as if listening to something, "I don't think I quite understand—"

"Daphne Lambert, age 20, from Manhattan." Daphne was stunned. They had caught her in her lie. "Why don't you come in so we can talk?" He looked like he was ready for her to bolt.

Daphne weighed her options and knew that there was no getting out of this, especially with her brother in there.

"...Alright."

"So, why did you lie about your name?" the man asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Daphne gulped.

"Because she had to—"

"Let _her _answer," he cut off Parker. He turned back to Daphne. "Why did you lie?"

She sighed. "Because I didn't want my name traced back to me. I want to help, I swear that's all."

"Help what?" the black man said.

"Stop what's going on. It's what I do?"

It was silent and the dark-haired woman turned to the first man.

"I feel like she's telling the truth. I mean, look at her," they glanced at Daphne, "she's helpless. There's no danger in there."

"Dangerous is not what we're looking for. It's the answer to her text messages that we want. Gary."

The transducer stepped forward and looked in Daphne's direction. "You said that you weren't with the government and that you weren't a journalist. But why would someone like that say that they want to help alphas and that they weren't spies? Why?"

The way Gary asked made it seem like random information that he had read from somewhere, making Daphne suspicious.

"I don't know where that came from—"

"I saw your text messages just now. It was you and some person named Jamie—"

"Gary, stop talking," the woman demanded.

"—You saw my text messages?"

"Yeah. Yep, it was very easy," his peers kept coaxing him to stop talking, "For someone who doesn't want to get caught, you get pretty personal and direct in these messages," he had his hands out in front of him and he was looking into space, tapping into space. It was as if he could see something else.

"Gary," they warned again.

"Gary." Daphne wanted to test her theory out. "What are you looking at?"

"Gary, don't answer that—"

"Your text messages, of course."

"How are you seeing them?"

"Through electromagnetic wavelengths in the air—"

"Gary—"

"I'm not supposed to talk about it. I-I'm different. I'm different." He kept pointing to his head.

Before Daphne could ask another question, the second man intervened.

"That's enough, Gary. You did your job. Now sit." The boy obeyed. "Now—"

"Why are we even talking to you right now," Parker asked, "you haven't shown us your badges."

The dark man pulled out his badge. "I'm Agent Harkin of the FBI and this is—"

"You don't look like agents. Well, _you _do but..."

"They caught us!" Gary declared.

"Gary!"

"Ah-hah! So you're not really DCIS...then why are you investigating the killings?"

"Gary, don't answer that."

"Okay."

"You're an alpha," Daphne muttered, looking at Gary.

Gary panicked and said, "I'm...not supposed to talk about it. Bill, I didn't say anything. I didn't say it. She did." He pointed.

Just then, an older man and a middle-eastern looking woman walked in and headed for their tabled.

"Rosin," the woman from earlier started, "we have a problem."

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><p><strong>It's short but it's an update. Thanks to wfp . org for the hunger stats. The next chapter will be a bit longer and (possibly) involve alpha action! :D<strong>

**I love reviews so even if I write this next one quick, I won't post it until I get AT LEAST five more reviews. I like to know what ppl think :) thanks!**

**Oh, and also check my profile for a link to what Daphne looks like and what she's wearing in the episode...**


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